Over the last two weeks of my return to work, I have found a way to somehow nurse, burp, change and play with baby Jude while also showering, dressing, making breakfast, drinking coffee and getting out of the door in time to drop him off at the nanny's with bottles and breast milk and get myself to work with a few minutes to spare. It's amazing how one can feel accomplished so early in the day!
Today, I had a morning meeting that was going to conflict with the time that I needed to pump. I'd been thinking through it all last night and figured I would go ahead and cluster feed the baby - meaning, even though I fed him at 6a, I would feed him one more time at 7:40a right before dropping him off with the nanny. That way, I wouldn't need to pump during my 9a meeting.
With everything ready to go out the door, I nursed Jude for this last-minute feed. I sat on the couch thinking, Man, I've got this!
But don't all perfect plans somehow seem to backfire?
They do.
And for me, it was in the form of baby puke. All over my work outfit, all in my hair, all over the baby, all over the couch. There was no way I could recover from the hazmat disaster and make it to work on time.
So in a matter of crude desperation, I did what I imagine many working moms rushing out the door before me have done: I rubbed it in.
All of it. I took the burp cloth and wiped the white spit up covering my front, my shoulders and my back, into my black blouse. I rubbed it into my hair, into Jude's clothes, into the couch. It was all I could do.
My baby showed up soaked in mama's milk. My blouse is crusty and I am sticky. My hair looks over-moussed. But we made it out the door and here we are, ready to face the day.
Sometimes, friends, you just have to rub it in.
(And after all of that, my 9a meeting was canceled).